Unexpected Adventure
by doctorcoffeeboy
Summary: Fangirls-meet-heroes fic. Me and my friend Rhiannon visit London for the day and accidentally get thrown back into the 1800s, and run into Holmes and Watson.. Holmes/OC Watson/OC eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I said I was writing this a few days back to my friend, so now it's finally up! Special Guest permanent appearance from **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_**, because she includes me a few of her stories!**

**First Chapter is us just getting to location so you can get to know us, so please be patient. **

**Onwards and Sidewards!**

**XxXxXxX**

"Lydia?" A voice called, dragging my subconscious harshly away from me. Due to my anger at this, I chose against answering.

The voice changed, same person but different accent. "Watson!"

That did it. My eyes snapped open to see my best friend and flatmate Rhiannon grinning at me.

"Good to see you up old boy! Such a fine morning." She continued in her best 'Holmes' voice.

"Indeed." I muttered, trying to keep my role, but soon failing and grinning, causing us both to start laughing.

- Okay, let me explain. Me and Rhiannon became friends over Fanfiction and ended up getting a flat together. We were, in the nicest and coolest way possible, Sherlock Holmes fangirls –

As the world became fully real, I heard one of the tunes from the 2009 Sherlock Holmes film with the Fabulous Robert Downey Jnr and Jude Law and looked up to see the menu screen on the TV.

We'd had a Holmesian night last night, starting with the Benedict Cumberbatch modern day Sherlock pilot, followed by the three episodes, and then we'd moved to the Robert Downey Jnr film that was still in the TV now.

- Actually, I should probably explain the role play too, right? Well, occasionally, depending on the situation and our moods, we called each other Holmes or Watson. Or Mrs. Hudson if we really wanted something. Just like a nickname really. As I was sleeping and Rhiannon wasn't, she was Holmes, I was Watson. -

"You ready for today?" I asked her, stretching from my position on the couch and straightening my 'Otaku' – _Otaku_ roughly translates as Obsessive Fan in Japanese – tee shirt.

"I was born ready for this!" Rhiannon grinned.

Let me just say, today was the day we went to London to check out the Sherlock Holmes museum and stay in London overnight. So we were a bit excited. That explains the film-night, sort of. Usually we don't have a reason.

We both got of the couches and dragged the quilts back into our rooms before coming back and neatening up the living space.

I put the DVD back into the box and put it on top of the 'Sherlock' DVD next to the TV.

"Tea?" Rhiannon called from the kitchenette.

"Sure. Put the kettle on then we can get dressed and come back for the drinks." I headed to my room, picking some smart/casual clothing. Dark blue jeans and a black shirt.

I walked out into the living space and over to the CD player.

"Some Robert Downey?" I called to Rhiannon, looking at his album and grinning at it.

"Nah! More Power!" Was my reply. I nodded, knowing she couldn't see me but doing it anyway, and grabbed the Iron Man 1 soundtrack, turning it up as the first track: _Riding With The Top Down_ started.

I heard the cheer of approval from Rhiannon and launched into air guitar as she opened her door and it got to the mega-power section.

Rhiannon laughed at my goofiness and walked past, pouring the tea for us both.

"Time Check!" I called and we both checked the clock. "Ah, six thirty am." I smiled blissfully. "And we are drinking tea and rocking out the one of the best soundtracks of all time." I grinned. "Life is good to us."

XxXxXxX

Within half an hour we had grabbed our suitcases and packed in the portable DVD play and our laptops – fully charged with plugs in case – and put in Sherlock Holmes, both Iron Man films and Due Date.

I also had a map of London Underground and my Sherlock Holmes: Awakened game.

We turned everything of and threw on our coat, scarves, checked we looked okay and locked the door behind ourselves.

As soon as we got out, our taxi pulled up and climbed in, asking to be taken to the train station and buzzing with excitement in the back.

We gave in our papers for the pre-booked tickets as calmly as possible so as not to look like over-hyper fangirls on the best day out ever, and boarded our train, finding a four-seat section with a table so we could both use our laptops easily.

XxXxXxX

About twenty minutes later the countryside had started flying past us and we were sat opposite each other clutching our hot drinks from the trolley-woman. I had coffee and Rhiannon had tea.

"So, we start by dropping our bags at the hotel-" Rhiannon began.

"The Normandie." I offered.

"Yup. Then we go and grab lunch at the Criterion-" She paused so we could both grin and let the words sink in "- then we get a cab to-"

"221_b_ Baker Street." We both said in our best Mycroft voices from 'Sherlock'.

"- then maybe wander round for a bit, mooch around Piccadilly Circus, seen as we're here, then the Thames and the London Eye or someting, and then go catch a theatre show or two then go to Victoria station and try out that all-you-can-eat Pizza place you told me about and go home, watch Sherlock Holmes again and go to sleep." Rhiannon grinned.

"This is gonna be so cool." I jumped in my seat a little. "We get to see where Holmes and Watson lived!"

Yes, we speak as if it really happened and they weren't characters.

XxXxXxX

The journey swam past really quickly and before we knew it we were climbing of the train into the crowds of Victoria Station.

We got the underground to where we needed to be and checked in at the Normandie.

"Should we take the DVD player?" I asked.

"Yea, why not. Just in case. We might get stuck somewhere and be really bored."

Nodding, I put it into my little backpack with the map and our tickets and my wallet, and we headed out again, telling the man behind the desk that we didn't know when we'd be back, sorry.

We walked back to the underground, and caught the underground train to the closet stop point to the Criterion, pausing outside it.

"This is where it all started." I whispered in awe, looking at the magnificent, beautiful building.

"Come on!" Rhiannon pulled me in and we grabbed a table, picking up the menus.

I went for just coffee, because I wasn't too hungry – I brought a bacon roll at a station on the way – and Rhiannon went for just a few sandwiches.

"This place is amazing." I told Rhiannon, looking around me and drinking it all in, holding my empty but still warm cup in my hands. "I can actually imagine Watson and Dunford meeting here to talk about Holmes."

"I know. It's so weird." Rhiannon smiled, pushing her plate away. "Right, lets get to Baker Street."

We hailed a cab outside the Criterion and climbed in, both chiming '221b Baker Street, please!" at the same time.

The cabby rolled his eyes. "You two fans of Mr Holmes then?" He asked.

We nodded. He sighed and turned back round.

"He looks like the cabby of Study In Pink." I whispered.

Rhiannon's eyes went wide. "Just co-incidence." She murmured.

"I hope so. I can't remember which pill to take." I replied quietly.

We stayed quiet then, both wondering if he was going to take us away and make us chose one of two pills whilst he took the other one and one of us died.

Luckily, it was okay and we arrived on location.

I paid the Cabby and we jumped out, looking at the door reading 'Sherlock Holmes. Consulting Detective.'

We looked at each other and made a little high-pitched noise in our throats before bounding up the stairs and walking in.

We paid to get in, answering that yes, we were from out of town, and yes, we were massive fans of the books and films, and went through the door.

And into Victorian-aged London.

"Something's not right." I murmured. The place was slightly darker, like it wasn't midday, more like 4pm, and there were no other people. Plus, nothing seemed to be from the books or anything. No experiments left around, no piles of papers. The place looked empty. No chairs or couches or tables or anything.

"Maybe we went in the wrong door." Rhiannon suggested, turning and opening the door we'd entered through.

"Lydia…" She called me over, sounding a bit freaked out. I followed and saw that the lady we'd just spoken to who stood behind the desk was gone, so was the desk. And the whole room. It looked like someone's house. There were no coat but a place where you could hang them on a hook next to the door and shiny stone floors that didn't have the same pattern as the ones we just walked over.

"This is weird." I stated.

Suddenly we heard raised voices.

"Holmes! We don't live here! We can't just waltz in like this and not expect to be caught." The voice was English. Very English.

"Oh hush Watson. It'll be fine. You worry too much." A slightly deeper voice answered, sounding perfectly calm whereas the other sounded exasperated.

We looked at each other, confusion on our faces, and dived for hiding places as we heard them approach the room we were in.

Two figures walked in, straight past us, allowing us to get a good view of them as their backs were turned.

I could see Rhiannon and she looked at me, shock and excitement on her face as she pointed at the two men.

I turned my attention back to them as the slightly taller man in a grey suit started to speak to the other man, who was in pinstriped work trousers and a knee length coat with lapels and buttons. His hair was a complete mess, giving him the smart but scruffy look. It worked very well.

"See Holmes? Empty. I _told_ you there was no point coming in here. Now, can we get out before someone comes?"

"You just said it was empty. Why do we need to hurry? I want to look around first, and ask the two hidden people to emerge now, if they please." The man 'Watson' had called 'Holmes' hadn't even turned round or seemed to glance at us as he walked in, but me and Rhiannon looked at each other with fear on our faces and slowly stood up.

"Hidden people?" The grey suited man looked around confusedly before his gaze settled on us. "Oh."

Me and Rhiannon glanced at each other again, awe in our eyes.

Stood before us was none other than a slightly younger looking Jude Law dressed as Doctor Watson from the film we'd watched last night.

"How the deuce did you work out they were here? I didn't see them." He sounded slightly shocked, but like he knew there was an obvious answer and he'd missed it.

"You _did_ see them Watson, you just didn't notice them."

"Of course." 'Jude Law' muttered, and I died a little bit inside.

The slightly shorter man turned round suddenly, and Rhiannon and me gasped quietly. I could tell without looking that Rhiannon had the same shocked and awed look on her face mixed with love that I did. And our thoughts were probably in sync too.

'_Oh God! It's Robert Downey Jnr! As Sherlock Holmes!'_

"Everything alright ladies? You look a little bit in shock." 'Jude Law' asked us.

I nodded, eyes flicking between them, trying to work out who to drool over first. They looked even better in real than on the screen.

"Well, what are your names? You seem to be awfully quiet." 'Robert' asked us.

"Rhiannon." Rhiannon stammered.

"Lydia.' I said quietly.

"Very good. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my good friend and associate Doctor Watson."

Suddenly Rhiannon and me started laughing, hearing them say that in real life was just too much.

We looked up from our doubled up positions in time to see the 'Detectives' face in a look of confusion. "Have I said something funny?"

He looked so cute when he was confused.

"No…it's just…" I looked at Rhiannon for help.

"Well, you two aren't real." She explained.

"Real? I think we are very real my dears." Holmes looked between himself and Watson. "…Very real indeed. Are you sure you're not in shock?"

Me and Rhiannon took a moment to get over being called 'my dear' before answering.

"You are fictional characters in a book portrayed by two actors called Jude Law-" I looked at Watson "-And Robert Downey Jnr." I looked at Holmes.

"I very much doubt this." Holmes told me.

Watson walked over to me, standing in front of me and holding a finger up in front of my face, obviously wishing me to follow it with my eyes. I did so, stomach jumping at being so close to Jude and to Watson. He took my arm and checked my pulse, which I must admit rocketed as soon as he touched me, and looked at me, smirking as I blushed. I looked away, overtaken by a mixture of scents that lead to mini-heaven.

"Well Holmes, miss Lydia seems fine." He told Holmes, who I saw was doing the same to Rhiannon, who had also gone a bright shade of red.

"Yes, miss Rhiannon's blood pressure may be a little high, but I'm sure it's nothing."

"Same here." Watson smiled at me, and I smiled back shyly, blushing again.

"What year is it?" Holmes asked Rhiannon.

"Well, we _were_ in 2011." She shrugged. "But now we're probably in the mid 1800s'."

"Well, you're true about the second date. Two Thousand and Eleven, you say?" Holmes sounded truly fascinated and not the least bit sceptic.

"Holmes? You're not saying you're actually taking this seriously?" Watson asked, with an apologetic look my way. I smiled, showing it was fine, and silently looking at Rhiannon, seeing she noticed a quote from the film as well, even if it was accidental.

"Yes, Watson, I am. Now, do you two ladies have anywhere to stay?" Holmes looked at us.

We shook our heads.

"Well then, you will simply have to stay with us." Holmes started of and out of the door.

"He does that, we should follow him before he walks into a carriage." Watson smiled.

Me and Rhiannon followed Holmes with Watson behind us and spoke quietly in excited voices.

"Of course. The museum isn't actually on the 221b Baker Street spot, it's along the road." I realised. "We were in the wrong house."

"That explains a lot." Rhiannon grinned. "We actually get to stay with Holmes and Watson!" We both squealed a little bit, glad Watson and Holmes were a fair distance between us for a moment.

"I know. It's so amazing." I looked around the street, at the carriages and the people passing by. "It's real, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so." Rhiannon grinned. I grinned back.

Suddenly Holmes was beside Rhiannon and Watson beside me. I looked at Watson and grinned, suddenly uber-glad I'd lost my braces a while ago and my teeth were okay.

The Hansom pulled up and we climbed in, Holmes requesting the same address we had not ten minutes ago.

"221b Baker Street, please."

XxXxXxX

**A/N: If you made it through to this point, WELL DONE! I'm proud! **

**So, what did you think? Me and **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_** decided a while ago that she got Holmes and I'd get Watson, which suits me just fine, because Jude aint that bad looking. **

**Apologies for the shoddy description of the entry to the 221b Baker Street museum, I've never been, but someday will, with **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_** of course! **

**Please Review, it will make my day! **

**Oh, and I'm aware – after checking the website – that the Criterion doesn't open until midday, but we're pretending it does.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_** posted up a story of me and her finding a younger Holmes and Watson in our flat, and in mine, we get thrown back, so I think we've covered it all!**

**Now, another chapter for you all, if you care to read it, or just Rhiannon if she's the only one that cares…**

**XxXxXxX**

The cab set of in the direction of Baker Street and me and Rhiannon became glued to the windows.

"Wow. It's all so…fantastic." I murmured.

"Look, the bridge still isn't built yet, it's practically the same as the Blackwood case." Rhiannon pointed out in the distance. "It must be around the same time."

"Excuse me." Watson – still can't believe I could see and speak to them both! – interrupted hesitantly. "Did you say 'Blackwood Case'?"

"Yes." I smiled.

"My dears, the case was solved earlier today, the papers haven't even printed it yet." Holmes explained Watsons' surprise.

"Oh, don't worry, there's a film about it." Rhiannon grinned.

"A…film?" They both looked suitably confused.

"Moving pictures in colour with speech." I suggested.

Holmes nodded, seeming amazed by the concept.

Me and Rhi turned our attention back to the bridge, when a thought occurred to me.

"How accurate d'you reckon the film is to what is happening now?" I asked, flicking my slightly-too-long fringe from my eyes so it was swept to the side.

Then the wind decide to throw my semi-straightened hair around my face, because my hair is just about too short to tie up, and looks stupid clipped back. The effect was a slightly less crazed Benedict Cumberbatch Sherlock look. My hair varied from just as bad to not so much. Seen as there were no straighteners here, looked like I'd be stuck with it, which was fine by me. My mum always tried to make it neater but I like the mess. At least it could be normal here.

Anyway, back from my hair to the subject.

"Well, Holmes here still has the cut lip and bruise-thing on his forehead, so he's been to the punchbowl recently." Rhiannon pointed out, grinning at my wild hair, and I nodded.

"Oh yea." I frowned, trying to work out if they'd been true to the film or not. Or rather, if the film had been true to them.

"Um…Watson?" I tried my best polite voice.

"Yes, miss Lydia?"

I inwardly screamed at the feeling of Jude Law saying my name in that accent.

"Um…how's Mary?"

Doctor Watson' expression became troubled instantly. "Mary and I had a bit of an argument and are no longer together."

I looked at Rhiannon as Watson looked out of the window and grinned. Neither of us liked Mary. She was too dull for Watson. And she was distracting him from the cases. And she was annoying. We obviously schooled our expressions once he turned back.

"Is it too much to ask why?" I pushed hesitantly.

Watsons' answer was to look at Holmes in semi-humorous anger.

We both made 'ooooh' noises of understanding. It made perfect sense of course that the Consulting Detective, who had his best innocent expression on right now, would be the reason behind it.

I noticed Watson was still a little upset over what was probably a messy break up – Mary looked like she could be a mean bitch if she wanted. I mean, seriously, who would chuck wine over Holmes at a restaurant. And at the _Royale!_ – and awkwardly patted his arm in an attempt to comfort.

"Don't worry Watson, you were too cool for her anyway." I offered.

"Cool, Miss Lydia?" He looked kind of cute when he was confused.

"Oh, it's 21st Century slang for 'Really Interesting'" I smiled.

Watson smiled back appreciatively, and I melted inside.

XxXxXxX

We arrived at Baker Street and as soon as the carriage stopped, me and Rhiannon had fallen out and clambered up the steps to we could stand in front of the door and stare at the numbers on the lamp above the steps.

"Bloody Hell." I whispered. "This is really happening."

"Uh-huh." Rhiannon murmured, both of us now staring at Holmes and Watson approaching.

We parted as they arrived so they could get through first, you know, being the ones that _lived_ here and everything.

"After you Ladies." Holmes extended a hand into the doorway once he'd opened it, letting us go first into possibly the coolest house in London.

We walked into 221B Baker Street and looked up and around in complete awe whilst Watson shut the door behind himself and Holmes walked in front of us.

I was about to speak when there was a sudden yell from Holmes.

"Mrs Hudson! …MRS HUDSON!"

Obviously we all jumped the first time but I noticed with a smirk that Watson did the sweetest little jump, before turning to Holmes and just glaring.

Of course, me and Rhiannon just covered our mouths to stop ourselves giggling.

"What is it this time Mr. Holmes?" Mrs Hudson's weary voice called. "Have you actually killed the dog this time?"

"No." Holmes smirked, easily avoiding a light punch from Watson and grinning cheekily. "In fact, I have two lovely ladies in need of accommodation."

Mrs. Hudson came downstairs and took in mine and Rhiannon's 21st Century clothes but didn't comment.

"Are you both sure you want to share a house with Mr Holmes?" She asked us carefully.

Our real answers were probably 'God Yes!' but we knew that would raise suspicion, so we both nodded calmly.

"Well, if you must. I'll get a room ready for you dears." She smiled and departed again.

"Holmes was right…she is rather sinister." Rhiannon whispered. I giggled.

"Right, come on." Holmes bolted up the stairs, expecting us to follow, quite correctly.

As soon as we got into the 'living' room, both of our Fangirl brains exploded. Our eyes went wide and we were rooted to the spot, staring and trying to take it all in.

"I'll go and ask Mrs. Hudson for some food for you both. Being taken back a fair few years must have been a bit of a culture shock for you." Holmes ran of.

Watson settled himself into his armchair, resting one foot on the other knee and folding his arms.

"You can look around, you know." He smiled.

Me and Rhiannon burst into action, walking around the edges of the room, logging everything we could.

As we met near the main experiment table – even though the whole room was covered in them, this table seemed to be stocked full of test tubes and stuff – Watson called out a warning.

"Don't touch-"

"Everything is in it's proper place." We chorused, grinning at each other.

XxXxXxX

**A/N: I know, it's shorter than the last one, sorry. **

**Well, what did you all think? Thanks to all who reviewed last time, hopefully I get a few more this time! Cyber Cookies if you do!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY RHIANNON! A day late, I know. Sorry…Um, thought this might be an appropriate present? I'm working on the next chapter too. **

**-|-|-|-|-|-|SH|-|-|-|-|-|-**

Rhiannon and me were still just in awe, staring at everything, when Holmes returned.

"So, if you two know who we are, are we rather well known in the future?" Holmes fell into his armchair besides Watson and we sat on the couch.

"Are you kidding! Everyone knows who you two are! You're one of the most famous detectives in the world! There are films, TV shows, books, games." Rhiannon started.

"We have all the original books, and a few written by others to boot, a few games, your version of the film and the modern TV show. Oh, and I've got the TV show of this age with Jeremy Brett and David Burke, Rhiannon hasn't seen it yet, we've been busy." I grinned. "And posters of you two. We have loads of them. Rhiannon has a massive one of you, Holmes." I smirked, switching to a grin as Rhiannon blushed.

"Yea, well, you have the same size of Watson!" She retorted.

It was my turn to blush as Watson looked at me.

"What do you describe the picture of him as?" Rhiannon asked.

I muttered my reply.

"Louder?"

"I said Watson looked Bad-Ass." I went the same colour as my red converses. "You said Holmes looked really cute."

Rhiannon followed my colour scheme.

Holmes and Watson laughed. We looked up, glad to see they didn't think we were stalkers or something, which reminded me, we needed to delete the hundreds of Robert Downey Jnr photos' we both had on our hard drives, and I needed to delete the load of Jude Law.

"Seems you two are quite the fans." Holmes smiled. "I suppose you two were always a little set apart from your friends?"

I smiled. "My friends were interested in the Sherlock Holmes series, but I was the only one to really appreciate and try to learn the Science of Deduction."

Rhiannon nodded her agreement.

"How well did you do?" Holmes leant forward; interested to see how his methods may have worked in the hands of two young girls.

"I think I'm not bad, but obviously you're the best at it." Rhiannon smirked. I nodded. No one could beat Holmes at his own job.

"We'll have to try and test that at a later date." Holmes smirked.

"Don't go staging any murders to test them Holmes." Watson scorned. Holmes sighed, showing his plan ruined.

"So, do all the medias' feature people that look like us?" Watson asked.

"Oh no, just the one movie, but they're working on another." I grinned. "We were going to see it as soon as it came out, but we're here now, and this is much better."

"If there is a story of the Blackwood case, the next one might be another case." Holmes frowned, trying to think ahead. "So, do you know anything that happens?"

Me and Rhiannon giggled at the first thoughts in our heads. We'd seen interviews, we knew a few things.

"Well…um." I chocked on a laugh, gesturing Rhiannon to continue.

"You wear a…dress." Rhiannon grinned at Holmes, giggling again.

Holmes went bright pink, and Watson began to chuckle.

"Oh, I really hope that happens." Watson grinned.

Holmes spluttered a bit, unable to think of a comeback.

We spent a few minutes giggling over the image of Holmes in a dress, then we all sobered up slightly.

There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Hudson walked in.

"You two dears will be needing a room then, I suppose?"

Rhiannon and me grinned at each other. "Yes please Mrs. Hudson." We chorused.

"Well, seen as there doesn't appear to be much else going on right now, I suggest you take a look around the house and choose a room. We have two rooms, so you can share or have your own?"

"Share." We spoke at the same time. Looking at Rhiannon, I could tell she wanted to be able to talk to me as well, so that we didn't just wake up to find this was all a dream.

"Okay, come this way then please."

Rhiannon and I stood up, and followed the landlady out, remaining quiet, knowing how scary this woman could be if needed. It was obvious, if you had to look after Holmes, you would have to be a bit tough.

Mrs. Hudson took us through to a room that was between Holmes' and Watson's. There were two beds already set on opposite sides of the room, with really soft quilts and a few tables and drawers around.

"Nice!" I grinned, sitting down on one of the beds, followed by just falling back. "Whoa. These are soft."

"Possibly better than at the flat!" Rhiannon agreed, doing the same.

"You'll need new clothes too. What you're wearing now may have been acceptable where you come from, but not here." Mrs. Hudson smiled to take the sting out of the words.

"Oh, thanks Mrs. Hudson." I smiled.

"Feel free to come and find me if you need anything." She smiled and exited.

"So…this is amazing!" I grinned.

"Yes. Definitely. Do you think we're dreaming?" Rhiannon asked.

"Perhaps. I'm not sure. I hope not."

"Me too." I looked around the room, but didn't move. Too comfortable.

"So, what or who do you think did this, if it's not a dream?" Rhiannon paused. "I think M did it."

I laughedoriarty. "No, Mycroft. He wanted us to keep an eye on one of his brothers' personifications."

"Maybe they teamed up?" She suggested. We both giggled at the idea of Jim Moriarty and Mycroft Holmes working together.

"Or, we could blame the Doctor." I offered.

"Maybe." Rhiannon nodded.

"So, we need to work out who gets who." I started, a serious expression on my face.

"We worked this a while ago when we wrote those fanfictions about this sort of thing. You get Watson and I get Holmes."

"Fair do's. Can we share Gladstone?"

Rhiannon laughed. "Of course. Right, come on, don't want to leave those two alone too long."

We jumped up and headed back along the landing, walking into the main room and still grinning at how casually we could do that.

"Ah, Miss Rhiannon and Miss Lydia." Holmes smiled at us, stopping midstream on a good-humoured argument he had been having with Watson, who was now smiling at me. I blushed. "Mrs. Hudson said she will bring up some food in a little while, and that we wait until tomorrow to let you two out in London."

"Sure." Rhiannon fell onto the couch, and I collapsed beside her.

"I'm fine here anyway." I grinned. "It's nice."

"Yes, and dangerous. This room is full of every illegal chemical available, and then some. Lord knows how he get them." Watson muttered, scowling at Holmes, who was currently trying to be the picture of innocence by examining the cuts on his knuckles from his last visit to the Punchbowl.

Me and Rhiannon giggled. I glanced at the clock. 6pm. This time yesterday I had been watching Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman's Pilot episode for Sherlock.

Oh, yes, let me mention. I'm a sucker for those 'this-many-hours-ago I was…' things.

There was a short knock on the door and Mrs Hudson popped her head in. "Supper is prepared downstairs. I doubt it's safe to eat up here."

We all nodded agreeably and trooped downstairs after the Landlady. I looked at Rhiannon and we both grinned. Our first meal in the 1800s!

**-|-|-|-|-|-|SH|-|-|-|-|-|-**

A/N: *Coughs, sneezes, groans* ugh. Hullo everyone. Feeling a bit ill today, Had yesterday of as well and wrote this up. Planning on spending the day starting with Robert Downey Jnr Sherlock Holmes, followed by Iron Man 1&2. At least.

So, my Muse should have been happy. Far from it. It refused this story 5 times, and this is all I got out of it. I had to threaten it with a bored!Sherlock that was poised with a gun and spray paint to put a smiley face on the Muse for target practice.

**So, please please please review? **

**Thanks in advance to **_**Pikeru's Angel**_**, **_**Fae Fae, OG**_** (Yes, I've resorted to nicknames for you two. Take it as a sign I think of you as friends. Friends with long names…)**__**and of course the fabulous **_**x-Pick'n'Mix-x**_**, without whom this story wouldn't need to exist. If I haven't mentioned you, which is likely, then I'm sorry, it's because I don't have internet access on the laptop I use for writing so can't got an check, Sorry! **


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Another chapter for you all. Hey, Rhi…*Puppy eyes* Now I've got another up, d'you wanna update yours? Pweeeese?

XxXxXxX

Rhi and I followed Holmes and Watson downstairs for dinner, and we were greeted by a table with enough seating for six, two on each side, and one on each end. Holmes and Watson let us go fist, and we went for the side seats, going opposite each other, Holmes and Watson took the ends.

The dinner was a variety of Chicken, vegetables, sauces, and loads of other things I couldn't identify but absolutely adored the taste of.

Me and Rhiannon were completely stuffed by the time we'd cleared our plates. I don't usually eat much, but Time Travel makes a kid hungry, apparently, and it was all so nice.

All satisfied, we went upstairs again to the main room.

"So, what did you do in the future, for jobs and such?" Holmes asked, lighting his pipe.

"Well-" I started, but Rhiannon jumped up.

"Hang on!" She ran out of the room grinning.

Holmes and Watson looked at me, confusion clear on their faces.

I shrugged, sometimes she just ran of somewhere. How the hell was I to know what she was up to? So, instead of wondering what I would know the answer to in just a few seconds, I settled on staring at the guys. It was so bizarre that they were really there. Really real.

Just this morning I'd be rocking out to the Iron Man soundtrack and drinking tea in our flat, marvelling at the day ahead. Now, I was in front of my two heroes since I was about 14, and they were considerably younger and not too bad on the eyes.

I smiled at Watson as his gaze caught mine, but we both chickened out in seconds and looked away.

Rhiannon ran back in, holding my bag. She sat on the floor in front of our new friends and pulled out both of our laptops, slapping their hands away when they reached for it and pulled out another sort-of laptop shaped thing, but much smaller.

The portable DVD player.

"Of course." I breathed, grinning as she switched it on.

"You're gonna like this…" Rhiannon grinned at them.

The disk was still in the drive and Rhiannon casually skipped the ads, ignoring the looks of awe on Holmes' and Watsons' faces.

"Move to the soda." She told them. They obliged, and Watson sat beside me. Rhiannon was on my other side with Holmes next to her.

The couch wasn't the biggest, so Watson had to sit very close to me. I couldn't tell what the combination of scents were, but I knew they were my new favourite mixture, and I may have to steal one of his shirts.

I glanced at Rhiannon, and going by the absurdly big grin on her face, I could tell she was thinking the same thing.

Rhiannon let out a yell of triumph; tapping Holmes to bring his attention to the screen from an experiment he was glancing at on the other side of the room.

"Is that…" Holmes murmured, looking at the menu screen.

"You? Yes." Rhiannon smiled at the ink-drawn style on the screen of the side of Holmes' face.

She pressed play, resting the screen on the table in front of us so we could all see.

I felt the familiar buzz of excitement as the opening notes of the main track (called 'Discombobulate'. One of my favourite words…) started up and the camera started tracking along the street.

XxXxXxX

The film was an obvious success, seen as the two main characters were sat next to me and Rhiannon.

Holmes had laughed at his own lines, but went all quiet whenever Irene Adler was on screen. A trait we all noticed.

Rhiannon and I remembered the bit when Holmes is handcuffed to the bed by Irene Adler with only a pillow for cover a few minutes before it actually even began to happen, and started giggling.

Holmes evidently remembered too, because he went bright red and looked away.

Watson – bless him – was completely unaware, but me and Rhiannon weren't about to skip it, we loved this scene. So poor Watson was left wide-eyed and in shock as me and Rhi giggled at the semi naked Holmes and Watsons' expression.

"You didn't tell me that happened." He joked at Holmes, who just muttered something in a different language.

Other than that, we were all laughing happily – apart from when Watson realised Holmes had said 'he's such a tit' on the boat just before the other man had gone to navigate the boat, and so Watson cuffed Holmes good humouredly round the head – and yelling abuse at Lord Blackwood and generally enjoying the movie.

That was, until the ending, when Miss Morstan kissed Watson on the stairs of 221B Baker Street. Normally me and Rhiannon are calling her a selfish bitch right now, but Watson looked rather upset by it all.

It was understandable really, the film was set at the start of their engagement, and he was sat watching it from the other end of a divorce.

I looked at Rhi and Holmes, hoping they could help, seen as I was notoriously bad at comforting people. It was common fact back home; I just panicked and made it worse.

Holmes just raised his hands in defence, showing he was just as bad, which was to be expected really. Rhi just raised her eyebrows and nodded towards Watson, who was just staring at the floor.

Frowning slightly and screaming inside, I stood up and gently took Watsons' arm, pulling him with me.

We sat on one of those sort of bench things in the hall, Watson had his hands clasped in front of him and was leant forward slightly.

"How long since…" I trailed, not happy with my own stupid awkwardness.

"Two weeks." He murmured/ "I moved back here nine days ago."

"Can I ask…what the argument was about?" I questioned. Rhi said something a while back about how talking about something makes you feel better.

"Me and Holmes were just tidying the dregs of the Blackwood case, tying up loose ends. There were a few people still at the area we scouted over, so we had to fight them. I'd damaged the healing burns on my back in the fight, but I couldn't have just left Holmes. It's only to be expected we come away with a few scrapes. Mary started an argument, telling me it was too dangerous, and I had to stop. Can you blame me for retaliating?" He looked at me and to my complete shock and fear, I saw tears glistening in his eyes.

Shit.

I hesitantly rested a hand on his back and rubbed in what I hoped were soothing circles. We stayed quiet for a few minutes, just Watson getting himself in check and me being silent comfort.

"You okay?" I asked after a few minutes. Watson dried his eyes and nodded. Without really thinking, I slipped subtly along the bench to put an arm round his shoulders, doing the same with my other arm to surround him in a hug.

Well, Watson didn't seem to mind, so I stayed where I was, perfectly content to rest my head on his shoulder and comfort him. I inwardly screamed like the little fangirl I truly was when he relaxed into it.

After a minute or two I thought I should move before it became awkward, and retreated along the bend, standing and holding out my hand to help him up.

Watson smiled his thanks and I grinned. "Hey, don't worry about Miss Morstan, yea? You're too good for her anyway." I smiled again and it got bigger when he returned it.

We walked back into the main room - my hand still tingling from when I helped Watson up – to see Holmes and Rhiannon on the floor fighting to get over each other in an attempt to reach Holmes' hat.

I started giggling when I understood going by Rhiannons' cry of 'I just wanna wear it!' and Holmes' reply of 'You can't, it's mine!'. Rhiannon doubled her efforts suddenly, and Holmes had to grab her legs to pull her back down to prevent her touching the Fedora rested on the back of Holmes' armchair.

Grinning at sharing a smirk with Watson, I left his side and jumped over my best friend any my childhood hero, and hopped onto the armchair – thanking the lord I'd removed my shoes – taking the hat and placing it on my head at a jaunty angle. Grinning like a loon, I straightened my back and struck a 'Holmesian' pose…

Only to be pulled to the floor in a heap by Rhiannon and have it fought of me. Fair do's, she's incredibly fond of that hat, as I am of Watson's moustache. We all have our quirks.

XxXxXxX

A/N: Written originally on a coach on the way back from the Tate Modern in London. I spent all the time we were actually in London glued to the window trying to get out and saying things like 'Look at those vast towering structures' when we went past London Bridge, and imagining Blackwood hanging from it. And I was looking for Robert and Jude, or Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman. Sadly, no sign of any, but I saw an awful lot of London cabs, which I'm now scared of…

**Enough of my rambling. Reviews? Please?**


	5. Chapter 5

About three hours after the Fedora-fight, we were all sat in the living room, with me and Rhiannon taking Holmes and Watson's armchairs (they smelt like them, me and Rhiannon were latching onto it whenever they looked away) and had stolen their hats. It seemed unfair that Rhiannon got Holmes's Fedora and I didn't get Watson's Bowler, so I borrowed it. I'd set it at a jaunty angle on my head, like he did sometimes in the film.

We were just having a loud humorous debate about weather we could keep the hats next time we all went out, when Mrs. Hudson knocked quietly on the door and popped her head in.

"I think you should all retire to your rooms for the night, it's been a long day for us all."

We all nodded, and I suddenly realised how tired I truly was.

"We'll let you get up on your own." Holmes told us.

"Sure." Rhiannon grinned, and looked at me. "Come on Lyd, bed time."

I grinned. "Goodnight Watson, Holmes." I headed to the door, closely followed by Rhiannon, both of us giggling at the hats still on our heads, hoping we would get away with it.

We heard Holmes and Watson suddenly jump up, running after us. We tried to make a run for it, laughing, but got caught by the men. Watson grabbed me, pushing me to the wall to stop me running and Holmes rugby tackled Rhiannon to the floor.

My best friend and me were obviously giggling and blushing, but as Watson smirked, taking the bowler had from my head and instead putting it on his own, I couldn't help but scream inside. My inner Fangirl was having a heart attack. I peeked over and saw Rhiannon on the floor with Holmes leaning over her, taking his hat and setting it at a jaunty angle on his own head. Rhiannon looked in much the same state as me.

There was a silence that lasted a few seconds, just us all trying to get our breath back, and me marvelling that Watson's eyes were seriously that blue, it wasn't just lighting or contacts, when he suddenly stepped back, as did Holmes. Rhiannon and me stood up on our own feet, dusted ourselves down, grinned at each other, and departed with murmurings of 'good night'.

As soon as we'd closed the door behind us, we turned to each other and bounced up and down on the spot for a moment, grinning so wide I feared our faces would split.

We calmed ourselves down enough to go to our rooms, and get changed into these nightgown things before climbing into our beds.

There was a few moments of happy silence before Rhiannon broke it.

"…Did you see how close Holmes was?" She grinned again.

"I know! Did you see Watson! I didn't know his eyes were seriously that blue."

"Same here! Holmes' eyes are really quite amazing." We both made a high pitched noise in the back of our throats.

"Wow." I muttered. "I…wow."

We both sighed happily.

"We should get some rest, don't want to be too tired to go running on a case tomorrow if something comes up." Rhiannon muttered, reaching for her gas-lamp and turning it down until it died of.

"Good point." I did the same to mine and there was a few minutes of us just rearranging the crisp white sheets and crinkly sounding covers (they type my Nan used to have, I realised, smiling fondly) until we were both completely comfortable.

I stayed staring into the darkness for a while, scared that when I woke this would have all been a dream. The thought that sent me to sleep was that if it was, this was definitely the best dream I could ever have.

XxXxXxX

I was slowly pulled to consciousness by my body clock saying it was past bedtime. I still had an arm over my eyes, a trait I'd accidentally earned and grown to liking from Holmes himself in the BBC series, and didn't dare move, I was way too comfy.

It took me a few seconds to realise I was not in my own bed. My sheets didn't feel as heavy as this. Strange, I didn't drink much alcohol – I claimed to be very attached to my brain cells and couldn't bare the thought of murdering them – so how had I come to be here?

I sat up and looked across to Rhiannon, who had occupied the other bed. I realised that must mean that we were both brought here. The room looked Victorian, and so did our clothes.

"Rhi…" I called gently.

Rhiannon mumbled something.

"Rhi, this is important."

Rhiannon opened her eyes. "Yea?"

"I think we're in a Victorian house." A thought struck me. "And my GOD, I had the most awesome dream."

Rhiannon's face lit up. "Me too!"

"About Holmes and Watson!" We both exclaimed.

"Woah." I frowned. "Hang on, same dream? We went to baker street for the day…"

"And got thrown back to Holmes' era." Rhiannon finished.

We both jumped out of bed and ran to the door to our room, flinging it open and looking out.

"Oh Mycroft…" I muttered. – adopted from a friend of mine, it kind of replaced 'Oh My God'.

"Yea…" Rhiannon breathed. "Well, come on, not doubt Holmes is up now at least." We both went straight through to the main room, not caring about our nightgowns. They weren't very flattering, being 1800s', and were floor length, so it was no worry.

We fell into the room, and grinned upon seeing Holmes and Watson fully dressed in their armchairs.

"Oh, you're up. Fantastic." Holmes smiled, cleaning his bow string.

"Would you two like something for breakfast?" Watson asked.

"Yes please." Rhiannon and I smiled.

"Anything in particular?" Holmes offered.

"Can I have crumpets?" I smirked at Rhiannon, she'd recognised my plan. It'd been a dream of mine for a while now.

"Just toast, please." Rhiannon added.

Watson nodded and walked past us to the door. "Mrs. Hudson? The ladies would like toast and crumpets, if you'd be so brilliant."

I erupted into giggles. It'd been a long-term dream of mine to hear an upper class Victorian man (hopefully by the name of Doctor Watson…) to say the word crumpets. It had lived up to my imagination.

Rhiannon just rolled her eyes at my childishness but grinned anyway.

XxXxXxX

A/N: As promised Rhiannon! Please review everyone, it'd make my day, I promise. Free cyber-hugs or high fives if your intimate-conscious for everyone that sends a review!

**Oh, is there anything any of you want to happen? I promise to try and get in a crime next Chapter…but I need ideas…**


	6. Chapter 6

"Right, I have to go and do my rounds." Watson stated apologetically, folding up the massive newspaper.

I nodded, still eating my crumpets, topped with Victorian Jam. Yes, I'm a Jam lover. It even gets capitalised in my head.

Watson paused.

"Miss Lydia, would you maybe like to come with me? I heard you mentioning a vague interest in Victorian medicine last night.

I screamed inside but hid it by taking another mouthful of food, stopping me from screaming out loud.

"Sure…why not?" I was aware my voice was a few pitches higher it should be.

"And Miss Rhiannon, you can stay with me for the day until Miss Lydia and Watson gets back."

"Um…Great." Rhiannon grinned.

"You should probably get changed first…" Holmes teased.

Rhiannon and I looked down at ourselves. "Ah…" I blushed. We ran out of the room, before pausing and running back in.

"We don't have clothes…" Rhiannon stammered. "Not ones that fit in here."

"You shall have to wear ours." Holmes replied, as if it was obvious. "Mrs. Hudson has already put them in your room, she wasn't happy but I don't think you're the types for dresses?"

"No." We chorused instantly.

We turned on the spot and ran back to our room. Holmes' clothes were spread out on Rhi's bed; I had Watson, down to the waistcoat.

"Oh Mycroft. Waistcoat!" I squealed. "Braces! Cotton shirts! Round collars!" It was cosplay heaven.

"If, heaven forbid, we go back…I want to take these clothes." Rhiannon agreed as we turned away from each other to get dressed as fast as possible.

The clothes were comfortable, god damn, and I turned to look at Rhi with a grin on my face.

"Oh My God. We are wearing our heroes' clothes…" I whispered.

We bounced on the spot for a few moments to get the excess fangirl energy out. Don't want to go embarrassing ourselves in front of Holmes and Watson by just spazzing out in front of them over that fact that they just Are.

Calming ourselves, we left our room and walked through to Holmes and Watson, who were sat in their chairs waiting, talking over a case or something. We walked over to them and I cheekily stole Watson's hat from his head, perching it on my own.

"Hey!"

"You have more than one. Probably." I smiled.

"Well…yes. But still." Watson smirked, then checked his pocket watch. "Ah. We need to get going, come on Miss Lydia. Goodbye Holmes, Miss Rhiannon."

I grinned at Rhiannon, and giggled when Holmes winked at me, before running out of the room. Yea, I was jealous that Rhi got to hang with Holmes, but I had a Watson.

**XxXxXxX**

Rhiannon looked around the room, somewhat awkwardly.

She had Holmes all to herself…and she didn't know what to do. _Typical Rhiannon. _She thought. _The guy I've crushed on since, like, 13, and he's staring at me…and I don't know what to say. Lydia would be laughing right now. But god…his eyes are so…Breath!_

"So, Miss Rhiannon, what would you like to do?" Holmes steepled his fingers together and fixed her with that piercing gaze that he could so pull off.

"Um…can you tell me about the Study in Scarlet case?" Rhiannon asked, smirking.

"The first case with Doctor Watson?"

"Yes." Rhiannon smiled.

"Well, I suppose so. The weather is rather dreary, and I've had no work from Lestrade. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will be happy to know I'm not destroying the rooms today. Speaking of…" He stood up. "Mrs Hudson!" He called.

"What have you broken now, Mr Holmes?" The woman in question appeared in the doorway.

"Nothing, I was simply requesting some tea for Miss Rhiannon." Holmes smiled.

Rhiannon grinned, tucking her legs under herself on Watson's armchair, as Holmes began his story.

**XxXxXxX**

**A/N: Ta-daa! AT LONG BLOODY LAST! Here you go Rhi!**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: IMPORTANT NOTE TO MY FANFICTION IRREGULARS AT END OF CHAPTER. (IF YOU ARE READING THIS CHAPTER, YOU ARE AN FF IRREGULAR.) PLEASE READ.

Watson and I left the final house, me swinging the medical bag so Watson could trundle along at my side with his bad leg.

"What's your favourite colour?" He asked me out of the blue.

"TARDIS blue." I immediately responded on impulse.

"What blue?" Watson's expression creased to a frown. I blushed; realising Watson obviously wouldn't know what the TARDIS was.

"Um… Royal blue, sorry." I smirked to myself, and then felt a deep pit open up inside. No more Doctor Who. It had been a major part of my life since I was nine back in 2005. The perfect age to be introduced to the Charming Time Lord. I'd neglected to bring even a Doctor Who novel, so I'd never see or read it again.

"Miss Lydia, are you quite alright?" Watson's voice brought me back to the 1800s. I frowned, noticing a tingling on my face from tears drying in the air.

"Sorry." I apologised. "Stupid nostalgia. Just realising I won't get to see my favourite show again." I explained, trying and failing not to find his concern adorable.

"Show? Like at the Theatre?" He tried to understand, causing me to smile sadly.

"No. There is this thing in my time, called a Television. It's like what we showed you and Holmes last night, the film."

"What was this show you're going to miss?"

I grinned, feeling pride well up, as usual when discussing my first Fandom and first love. "Doctor Who." The words, so out of their time, as is the Doctor, made me shiver.

Watson raised an eyebrow. "Is that a medical show of some sort?"

Laughing, I felt the sadness regress back into it's dark corner. "Not really. It's about a man not of this world who has a machine that travels in space and time having fun." I didn't bother trying to explain how the TARDIS worked or that the Doctor was a Time Lord with two hearts.

"Well, if it helps, you can explain it more to me? It sounds fascinating. We could get a drink at a pub nearby?" Watson smiled cutely and I let out a laugh. He had no idea what he had just let himself in for. Time for my geek to expose its sonic screwdriver and geeky dialect.

XxXxXxX

Rhiannon POV

Holmes is a great storyteller. As he retold me the Sign of Four (He finished Study in Scarlet and I requested more) he got out of his chair, pacing back and forth with extravagant hand gestures to show his point and brilliant impressions of Watson, Miss Morstan and the peg legged killer. Once or twice he fell over Gladstone, exclaiming that 'he doesn't mind', much to my inner fangirls delight.

Once the story was over, Holmes fell back into his armchair, and I curled more into Watson's armchair, where Lydia usually sat now.

"Do you have the case files?" I asked, wanting to see the evidence first hand.

"Of course. Why, don't believe my deductions?" Holmes levered himself elegantly up and stepped over to the messy bookcase where the files were stashed.

"I do!" I insisted. "But it's just…" I shrugged, unable to explain my girly obsession with the man in front of me face to face. "I want to." I finished lamely.

"Come on." Holmes returned to his original sprawled out position on the couch. I raised an eyebrow, Holmes sighed and tapped the couch seat next to him. Screaming inside, I relaxed onto the couch, his scent surrounding me and making me want to giggle.

He opened the old file, revealing tonnes of press cuttings, reports, drafts of Watson's side of the story, occasional notes from Holmes himself. He looked through them together for what must have been hours, forgetting what time it was and missing the sunset. Not that I cared for the sun, I had Holmes!

Time drew on, Holmes and I grew weary eyed. I remember discussing how mouse-like Lestrade looked and how I suspected Clarky to be really cool after hours, then I fell asleep.

XxXxXxX

Lydia POV

We ended up at a neat little pub just off Trafalgar Square in a little turn-off in Northumberland Street. I sat in the corner, saving a seat amongst the Victorian Working Class, observing an urchin expertly weaving through gaps without touching anyone and stealing wallets and silken handkerchiefs. The little boy, all straight ruffled brown hair under a dark blue cap and wide blue eyes, saw me staring and froze, eyes filling as if he was about to cry. I called him over and he began blubbering in Estuary English about how he was sorry and don't call the cops. I laughed, told him I'd do nothing of the sort and pointed out a bloke on the other side. Using my 'London Voice' (my original accent, just heightened to miss all the 'h's, so as to stop the boy being scared of my slightly upper class accent) slipped in to play, a first, as I only used this in my own company usually, showing just how cool _I_ am.

"I just watched 'im down a pint in 'alf a minute. 'e's got too more lined up. Bloke's clearly loaded. 'e's right 'anded, the wallet's on the outside pocket of 'is large jacket. Should be 'n easy catch." I smirked. The boy grinned.

"Fanks miss!" I smiled and sent him on his way, feeling proud of myself and him. The bloke was only gonna blow his cash on beer anyway, better give it to a poor boy.

Watson was still waiting for our next pint (only the second, I hold better than this, neither of us were drunk, having had water in between like the responsible adults we were..) whilst the boy got his wallet. I gestured him to come back.

"So?" I asked.

"Twenty quid." He smiled. "Cheers."

"Any time. 'Ave you 'eard of Mistah Ohmes?" I asked.

"Sure I 'ave. I'm one of 'is irregulars." He puffed out his chest proudly.

"Name?"

"Billy, miss." I grinned. Billy, the most famous of the Irregulars.

"Of course. 'e talks fondly of ya, Billy."

"'E does?" Billy's eyes filled with wonderment. "You know 'im?"

"Know 'im? I'm sharin' a house with 'im and Mistah Watson. I'll let 'im know you're doin' awlrite."

"Taa. Mite see ya next time 'e calls for us, then." Billy tipped his cap to me as he left the pub, I mock saluted in return.

Feeling significantly proud of myself and prouder even when I remembered this would be the location of the Sherlock Holmes Restaurant in years to come - in my time anyway - I was still beaming when Watson slid back into place beside me.

"Who was the boy?"

"Just an urchin 'oo needed an 'and pickpocketin' a bloke over there." I replied casually in my estuary accent.

Watson raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? Am I speaking to the same young woman?"

"Oh, sorry." I switched back. "Habit. It was Billy, you know, of the Irregulars?" Watson nodded.

"Ah, far too young to be out in the streets. How much did he get from the man?"

"Twenty pounds from that man alone, he's been making his way round. Thought I was gonna send him to the cops." Watson smiled. "I obviously didn't, instead I pointed out someone for him and had a conversation."

"And the voice?"

"To stop him being worried. I don't even know where my accent comes from. I was born round here, then moved to the middle of the country where everyone sounds like a farmer. God knows where I picked up all my airs and graces." I shrugged. "My Mum says it's from all the reading I did as a kid. I was brought up reading everything I could get my hands on. Except the classic girl books about a young girl in real life situations. I preferred the adventure, the mystery and the fantasy. Real life wasn't really an interest ever."

"Any authors I'd know?" Watson asked.

"Well, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Who?"

"Well, he wrote from the perspective of one Doctor John Watson." I side glanced and saw his cheeks redden. "Yes, I grew up from 14 reading your stories about Holmes. Very good, they were too." I grinned. Watson blushed even more and I couldn't hold back an 'aww'.

We finished our drinks, conversation drifting between me explaining this location to be the Sherlock Holmes Restaurant, and pointing out where various items from my time would be, including the mock-up of baker street on the second floor, and him asking me more about my time, and visa-versa.

We left the pub when they started singing, I watched the drunkard without a wallet stumble sadly out of the bar, feeling only a bit of sadness, but forgetting that when I remembered the happiness on Billy's face. I have a soft spot for urchins. It always annoyed me when I was younger that even urchins in Victorian times look cool.

We were walking towards where we could get a cab when a woman's voice called Watson from behind us. We turned and saw a pretty young lady in an elegant yet not too expensive dress, and a hat pinned to her brown hair, walking calmly towards us from the bridge at the other end of the road.

"Ah, Miss Farmer, I believe." Watson smiled. "Miss Farmer, this is Miss Bevan, she's new here and me and Holmes have taken her in with a friend to Baker Street."

I marvelled as Watson spoke. This woman looked exactly like a friend I had in the 21st century. We met over Twitter and found ourselves to have lived on the same semi-island, if not at different times. My friend's mum remembered her from my friend's sister's time at school. Hell, we had the same History teacher.

"Please Doctor, call me Pam." Miss Farmer smiled. I died inside, that was my friend's name.

"Well, Pam, what can I help you with? Isn't it a bit late to be out on your own? Me and Miss Lydia are on our way home." I giggled to myself. Home. Holmes.

"Well, I was on my way to send a telegram to you, actually. I was wondering if I could meet you and Holmes tomorrow, and you Miss Lydia, and your friend. You see, I have a dilemma and require all the help I can get."

Watson smiled and I grinned. A chance to hang out with my friend's ancestor. Cool!

"Of course, what time would be convenient for you?"

"Would 9am be okay?"

"Of course, Holmes and I are usually up by then."

"Great." Pam smiled warmly, that smile I was so accustomed to. "I'll see you all then."

"Goodnight Miss. Is it far home? We could take you-?"

"Oh no, I can manage. Thanks all the same though Mister Watson." Pam smiled and turned away, Watson turned to me questioningly.

"What's with the grinning? You looked fit to burst." He asked.

"It's just…" I smirked. "I know her great, great great, whatever great granddaughter. She's one of my best friends.

"Oh." Watson smiled. "You appear to know everyone."

"I know, scary, isn't it?" I laughed and we continued down towards Trafalgar, where we could get a cab.

XxXxXxX

We got back to Baker Street with no more events, and walked quietly up the 17 steps, in case Holmes and Rhiannon had retired to bed, it was nearly 11 after all, we had taken our time with the drinks and my teachings of the Doctor.

Watson went first to the living room, and ducked back round to me after peeking into the room.

"They're asleep." He whispered, laughing silently. I glance and bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. Holmes had an arm round Rhiannon, who was resting a head on his chest and loosely clutching his shirt in her hand. An open case file was on his lap. Watson and I grinned to each other and closed the door. Better to leave them to it. I suspected Watson's excuse would be that Holmes never got enough sleep so let him stay there, mine was that I knew Rhiannon would kill me for interrupting the best sleep of her life.

Watson and I retired to our respectable bedrooms and I climbed into the rustling white sheets with a smile on my face. Productive day indeed. I got to see Victorian London and converse with an Irregular, whilst Rhiannon got a day with Holmes to herself. I couldn't work out which of us had the better option.

As I drifted to sleep I wondered why folk in the 1800s get up so early. In our time, everyone got up around 10 or something, but here everyone got up about 8 or maybe earlier. It was bizarre, but at least that meant more Holmes/Watson time!

Tomorrow was going to be a good day, definitely.

XxXxXxX

**A/N: And I AM BACK! *dances badly* God, it's been so long, right? My Internet has been temporarily (for the last, like, 4 months or something) been cut of from me, so I am using my school Internet. Every Tuesday me and my friend go to the library after school, expect an update, maybe not from this story, maybe so. You may get Thursday updates too, I have double photography and so double Internet if I wish. That's no promise though. **

**So, what did you all think? **

**Fae Fae, did you see yourself? Also, can you PM me? My stupid school filtered your info page so I can't get to you. :( **

**Rhi, was that okay? Now I've done like two updates (This one is longer to compensate for the last one being too short), can I have an update of yours? PLEASE?**

**OG, Capt. Wall, if you read this, miss you all, hope to get an internet phone real soon, I've got two stories for the paper, that should amount to enough for the phone. If not, next month's wages will be a part of it. Soon, my dears. Soon. **

**So, my little FANFICTION IRREGULARS (I'm not big headed - Well, that's the understatement of the century), I need your help! I don't actually know what Miss Pam Farmer has for us. Obviously a mystery, before any of you suggest that. Any ideas? I could just use a case from the original cannon *looks at books on shelf next to desk*. So, your task, and I'll give you cyber jam and cakes and hugs, is to suggest any ideas that may assist me. I felt we needed a crime or mystery or something, but haven't a clue what. **

**Not that I've read them all of the cannon yet. I'm past halfway through the Return book. Then it's Hound of the Baskervilles (Which I've read the graphic novel of, watched the Jeremy Brett twice and have the audio off. I think that one is covered), Valley of Fear, His Last Bow and the Casebook. **

**Sorry for the long A/N. I think these should be a chapter of their own. **

**Love y'all! Doctorcoffeegirl x**


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